


Smooth

by Green_Sphynx



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Established Relationship, Facial Shaving, Intense intimacy, Keith likes sharp blades, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Milking, Prostate Orgasm, Shaving, Top Keith (Voltron), Trust the guy with the Razor, minor knife kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-04 22:41:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21205253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Sphynx/pseuds/Green_Sphynx
Summary: When Lance needs a shave, Keith is always there to provide





	Smooth

"You need a shave."

Lance's breath hitched despite himself, but he couldn't have given Keith a witty retort even if he wasn't lightly trailing a finger over the line of Lance's jaw. He could bicker and bite and turn anything Keith said into a fight if he felt like it - and if you asked the rest of the team he felt like it far too often - but not when Keith's eyes were dark with promise and his touch deceptively tender, considering they were still out in the open where the others could see them.

"Yeah?" Lance's voice rasped embarrassingly, and he had to swallow repeatedly to get his mouth feeling less like a desert.

That work was immediately all undone when Keith's gaze flicked over to meet his eyes, hungry and so intense their touch was almost physical, and he cemented Lance's doom with a husky, promising "yeah" echoed back at him.

"Yeah well, I still don't have a razor," Lance croaked, breathless. Because he knew how the cheeky grin on Keith’s face would look before it even appeared, and he knew how that light finger trailing his jaw would turn so Keith could pinch Lance's chin between thumb and index finger and tilt his face to force him to meet his eyes.

He knew the low whisper of Keith's breath against his lips as he made him the offer that was already in the start of the conversation. "Don't worry, I have one in my room."

Lance was entirely too flustered to even process the leer Pidge sent after them as he rushed himself and Keith out of the lounge area, suddenly in a hurry to drag the other down to his room and the promised razor. He didn't get this opportunity often, and he hadn't cursed how slow his facial hair grew since his early teens, but he had so almost every day since coming out here into space.

Every day he didn't need a shave was a lost opportunity, if there was a Keith to be had with those skilled hands. Those hands could use an old fashioned razor - one that could easily slit Lance's throat - with the precision and artistry of a professional. Yet Lance felt entirely safe under that knife in Keith's hands, and more than a little turned on.

Lance dragged Keith into his room unceremoniously, but the moment they were through the door the tables were turned on him. Keith slammed his back up against the wall and slanted their lips together hungrily, and fuck if Lance was complaining now.

Instead he whimpered, going pliant under Keith's pinning hands, submitting to the Red Paladin. He got an approving growl for it and a sharp nip on his bottom lip, Keith's canines scarily and arousingly pointy and sharp, nearly drawing blood just like that.

"Get on the bed," Keith ordered, "I'll get the supplies."

The supplies, not necessarily limited to the razor and shaving cream, or even the bowl of warm water, or the towel. But that was something they didn't speak of, so it was left implied.

Lance scrambled to the bed as soon as Keith released him, losing his jacket and shirt along the way. He dragged a fresh sheet from the compartment under the bed to spread it over the one already in place for easier cleaning afterwards, and then happily sprawled himself over the top.

Keith returned with a grin and dropped the things he brought next to Lance on the bed, before manhandling Lance himself back upright to sit against the headboard. Lance let it happen easily, honestly more turned on than offended by how easily Keith could move him around like a doll.

Especially so when Keith straddled his lap, taking Lance's chin in hand to move his face this way and that, studying the barely-there scruff.

It wasn't just Lance who wished they could do these sessions more often.

Keith made a sound of disapproval deep in his throat, and grabbed for the shaving cream to lather Lance's chin up, not bothering being particularly gentle at this point. The gentle came when he took the razor, carefully testing the sharpness of the edge right under Lance's nose.

As if he hadn't sharpened it in anticipation before calling Lance out here, anyway.

Lance breath caught in his throat when the sharp blade touched to his throat intimately below his ear. The razor came up with one smooth stroke, short hairs giving no resistance against the sharpness of the blade, leaving the first stripe of skin bare and cold.

Keith gave him the chance to let out his breath with a shudder, the first few strokes always working him up embarrassingly fast. He was hard - harder than he had any right to be, considering Keith had not touched him at all - and the need to squirm and press his hips up to where Keith was calmly straddling him was infuriatingly strong.

Lance resisted, and settled back with a deep breath, ready for the razor to come down again and lightly touch his skin.

Keith shaved him like a professional, the whole half undressed and straddling thighs thing aside, with smooth precise strokes over Lance's throat and jaw. He held Lance's face in a firm grip to shave away the bristles of a would-be moustache and the few longer hairs in the hollow under his bottom lip.

Only when Keith was content with the results he put the razor back down and wet his hands, carefully wiping away the remaining flecks of shaving cream and feeling for any hairs he missed.

"You good?" He questioned, voice gravelly with an arousal he wasn't showing.

Lance had no breath to respond with, too focused on not quivering under Keith and his blade, so all he gave was a curt nod and a soft, needy whimper.

That was all Keith needed of him.

Lance obediently lifted his arm when Keith guided it up by the wrist, and held it there when his arm pit was lathered up next. Keith shaved it with just as much care as his face, smooth quick strokes that rid Lance of any of the growing stubble there quickly and efficiently. The other arm pit followed suit, and Keith paused again to wipe away any of the lingering foam.

Lance was more than ready for the next part.

Keith climbed off Lance's lap and gave one demanding tug on the front of his jeans, no more of an order necessary for Lance to scramble to get his fly open and squirm out of his remaining clothes. By the time he kicked them off the bed Keith had already grabbed his free ankle, dragging Lance bodily down to lie flat on the bed.

Lance's legs spread open wide immediately and without any more incentive, welcoming Keith to his most private parts with the sharp razor.

Of course, Keith just _ had _ to be tease though.

Instead of getting to Lance's pubes, Keith lathered up both of Lance's shins. Lance didn't grow half as much hair there as a man probably should and Keith didn't shave there most of the time, but maybe Lance had looked too eager. Maybe Lance was too easy to tease today.

He whimpered and tried his best not to squirm while Keith's hands spread the shaving cream with slow, massaging circles. Lance tried to give Keith his most pleading look when the other stopped to wipe his hands on a towel and grab the razor again, but Keith ignored it completely and went to shaving first Lance's right, and then his left lower leg.

It was torture how long that took. It wasn't a complicated, curvy surface, but it was _ a lot _ , and Keith happily stopped to clean off the razor after every single damned stroke up Lance's shin. It was cruel, it was _ torture _ and it was _ mean _, and Lance was definitely begging with his whimpers and whines now.

Keith did not grant him any mercy until both legs were smooth as a baby's bottom. Only then he pushed Lance's legs wide apart again, settling comfortably between his knees and gathering up a fresh load of shaving cream to lather up his crotch.

Lance might've been embarrassed about how hard he was if this wasn't the umpteenth time they had gone through this exact ritual. He was so hard his cock was leaking little drops of precum on his stomach, sac drawn tight around his balls, and he didn't feel a wink of shame. All he felt was lust and need and _ desire _ for Keith to keep going.

Not even for the sex that would follow, specifically. Lance just really, _ really _ loved the feel of the razor in Keith's deft hands sliding over his skin, because Keith made it completely painless and almost magical. Keith had a control with that razor that was beyond human.

Lance felt no shame in letting out a loud moan when Keith finally put the sharp edge of the blade high on the fold between thigh and crotch. The only shame he felt was in how hard it was to force himself to keep still and not buck up into the delicious feeling of the blade sliding over skin and potentially ruining the clean work. He felt no shame in Keith's deep chuckle, low and raspy with lust that reflected Lance's own.

There were times to be competitive, and there were times to bask under Keith's control. This was most definitely the latter.

And again, Keith was basically a professional. He shaved Lance without any trouble, not a nick on delicate skin nor a bit of hair left behind. He took Lance's hard cock in hand to keep it out of his way and lifted his balls to stretch his sack, all sweet torture and cruel pleasure while being perfectly functional to let Keith shave him clean and smooth.

Only when Keith finally put the razor aside to wash away any leftover shaving cream and cut hairs, Lance dared to arch his back and press into the touch.

"Almost done," Keith promised, laughing softly. "On your knees now. Let me finish this."

"Please, Keith…" Lance murmured, even while obeying. He didn't wait for Keith to pull his hands back, rolling over on the bed where he could feel those hands still gently massaging his balls. It was _ cruelty _.

"Almost done," Keith repeated, and it was true, so Lance knew he should feel bad for complaining.

_ He didn't. _

Still, after rolling over as instructed he pressed his face into the pillows and reached behind him with both hands to spread his arse. The last place Keith was going to shave was his crack, and spreading it wide himself made Keith work faster, and it would get them to the next part sooner.

Keith made quick work of it, the razor sliding fast from one side to the other, zigzagging until all hairs were gone, and then it was discarded for the last time. Lance gave a pleased moan into the pillows beneath his face, waiting for Keith to clean away the cream before humping his hips back. Keith laughed at him, but nevertheless he brought back slick fingers soon. Slick with lube this time, rather than shaving cream.

Lance couldn't - nor wanted to - help the deep moan that was only partially muffled by the pillow when not one, but two fingers pressed into him at once. Keith loved to test his limits, and Lance loved to show Keith hadn't yet found them.

But not for a lack of trying.

Keith instinctively found Lance's prostate to press into, and two fingertips massaged the gland hard enough to be on the edge between pain and pleasure. Lance moaned louder - had to turn his head for more air, his voice ringing out louder immediately.

"I wonder if I can milk you dry just like this," Keith mused, voice teasing and low and rough.

_ Cruel _ was what he was. _ Cruel. _

Yet Lance had nothing to say against it, could only push back his hips for more pressure, for Keith to keep going. And Keith gladly did, rubbing and pressing on Lance's prostate until his cock was dribbling clear fluid on the sheet beneath him, his breath coming in short stuttering gasps, and his moans whimpers, his whimpers moans.

Keith was oh, so happy to keep going until Lance's body was convulsing, voice crying out an orgasm that wasn't quite the same, but so much more intense, and everything Lance could ever want and more. Keith was gladly still pushing and pressing even when the puddle beneath Lance was surely leaking through the sheet into their bed, and Lance was writhing and crying for mercy.

Lance wasn't sure how long Keith kept torturing him, massaging his over-sensitive prostate with more force than it could handle anymore, before he finally relinquished. He slowly decreased the pressure before pulling his fingers back and out, not making any changes too sudden or abrupt, and then finally looped an arm around Lance's waist to finish with the clean-up.

Keith pulled up the sheet to wipe Lances softened cock despite his protesting whimpers, and then pulled Lance up just enough to take his full weight off the sheet, allowing him to tug it from under him. He still took care to lower Lance onto the bed slowly, gently, and make sure Lance was turning his face to the side again so he could breathe properly instead of suffocating himself in a pillow.

"I'll just throw the sheet in the wash and put the shaving equipment away," Keith promised, his voice still low but now gentle, tender. "I won't be long, I promise."

Lance made a small noise of displeasure, because he hated Keith leaving at this point. But he hated lying on the dirty sheet even more, and he detested finding all their stuff in the morning to clean up, so he knew he would be glad later. Not that that made him feel less like letting out a high pitched, needy whine right now.

Still, Keith was true to his word and didn't take long. Keith crawled into bed with him and drew up the blanket, allowing Lance to roll to his side so they could spoon together comfortably.

In the end, Lance was never quite sure what Keith got from this aside from the satisfaction of seeing Lance give underneath him, of seeing him yield.

But _ in the end _, Keith would murmur something into Lance's hair that sounded suspiciously much like an 'I love you', so Lance was hardly one to complain.


End file.
